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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24101653">i am finally seeing that i was the one worth leaving</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/warsfeil/pseuds/warsfeil'>warsfeil</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Persona 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, sex but make it kinda sad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:55:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,171</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24101653</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/warsfeil/pseuds/warsfeil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Stay here for the night,” Akira blurts. </i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akechi does.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>207</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i am finally seeing that i was the one worth leaving</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>p5r spoilers for the third trimester if you haven't done it! like, really really!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Akira reaches out without thinking. It isn’t that abnormal of an action, in of itself: Akira does about half of his actions without really thinking them through, and the ones he does think through he does so questionably, at best. But catching the sleeve of Akechi’s winter coat between his fingers? That’s a new low. Or high, depending on which way he’s counting.</p>
<p>	To say that Akechi turns would be a gross overstatement. He simply stops moving, freezing in place with all the tension of a movie still, his head inclined very slightly towards Akira.</p>
<p>	“What?” Akechi says. His voice is somewhere in between the polite Akechi and the angry Akechi, and Akira wonders if that middleground might not be the closest thing to the real Akechi. “Was there something else you needed to talk about? I daresay we’ve covered it all, and I don’t care to waste time going over it again.”</p>
<p>	“Stay here for the night,” Akira blurts. </p>
<p>	For a long moment, Akechi doesn’t move. He tugs his sleeve away, irritation making the movement into a sweeping gesture as he runs his fingers over the fabric, smoothing out wrinkles that Akira hadn’t left there. </p>
<p>	“Why?” Akechi asks, carefully guarded. He still doesn’t turn to face Akira. He’s still got one foot out of the door, metaphorically. Akira can see it in his posture.</p>
<p>	“What do you have to go back to?” Akira says.</p>
<p>	Akechi doesn’t flinch -- he’s too well-controlled for that, even at his wildest -- but he does let his eyes drift away from Akira, towards the door that he hasn’t yet made a further move towards. </p>
<p>	“I mean,” Akira says, “the world could end tomorrow. Why spend it alone?”</p>
<p>	“You certainly hold your own company in high regard, don’t you?” Akechi says, but his shoulders fall with the weight of resignation. “Fine. If you’re so insistent, I don’t doubt that you’d try to follow me to my apartment.”</p>
<p>	Akira wouldn’t, probably, but he appreciates that Akechi thinks he’s so tenacious. He smiles, instead, and Akechi ignores it as he brushes past Akira. Akechi has too much pride to back down from something once he’s committed, which works against Akira a lot of the time, but seems to be going in his favor so far. </p>
<p>	The floorboards creak under Akechi’s heels when he gets to the top; he rocks his weight gently as he stands out of the way, letting Akira take the lead for a moment. Akechi’s hands go up to his scarf, and he busies himself with taking it off and carefully folding it, letting it drape over his arm.</p>
<p>	“I hope you didn’t drag me up here to play videogames,” Akechi says, letting his voice drag over the words until they have the appropriate amount of disdain.</p>
<p>	Akira leans down to let Morgana jump onto the table. “Nah,” Akira says.</p>
<p>	“Hmm,” Akechi says, unconvinced.</p>
<p>	“Stay downstairs for the night,” Akira says, softly, to Morgana, who gives him a long, baleful look before retreating back down the way they’d come. Without complaint, at least, which is good; Akira has a few ideas on how things are going to go, and he doesn’t want an audience there for any of them. </p>
<p>	Akechi follows Morgana with his gaze, and then turns it on Akira. It’s a weapon that only ever glances off Akira, and Akira wonders how deadly the wound would be if he wasn’t seemingly immune to Akechi’s best efforts.</p>
<p>	He’d probably be dead.</p>
<p>	“I see you haven’t changed your decorating standards,” Akechi says, a generous move to fill the silence that simultaneously doubles as a mild insult. Or it would, but Akira finds his room in the attic awfully cozy. He doesn’t want to change anything about it.</p>
<p>	“Here,” Akira says, and holds out his hands for Akechi’s outerwear. Akechi looks at the hand for a long moment, but there’s no point in the token resistance now, so he surrenders his coat and scarf without fuss, watching Akira place them on an empty spot of the shelf without complaint.</p>
<p>	“If you intend for me to sleep on your floor, then I’ll need those back,” Akechi says, dryly, and Akira mentally revises his statement to Akechi allowing things to happen without <i>much</i> complaint.</p>
<p>	“You can take the bed,” Akira says. Truthfully, he knows exactly what he wants, but the trick is getting there. Akechi is a grenade wrapped in thorns, and navigating him should be harder than it is. Akira seems to have an uncanny ability to know when to push and when to back off, and his only hope is that he can manage to push enough to keep Akechi from -- </p>
<p>	It might not be possible at all, but Akira intends to try.</p>
<p>	“And you?” Akechi says, the slow suspicion dragging across his face.</p>
<p>	“It’s big enough for two,” Akira says, his face completely blank. He’s learned that if he’s going to say something suggestive or inflammatory, it’s best to say it in the mildest tone possible and wait for a reaction.</p>
<p>	Akechi’s reaction is understated, to say the least. “I suppose I should have seen that coming,” he says, resigned, and then sits on the edge of the bed.</p>
<p>	Too easy, Akira thinks, and sits next to him.</p>
<p>	“Was this all a plan to get me into bed? You could have simply asked. I would have said no, of course,” Akechi says, a casual flick of his wrist to punctuate his words. He has that smile back on his face, the expression at odds with the easy way he lets his words fall like a shower of red-hot sparks across Akira’s skin.</p>
<p>	“I know,” Akira says. “But there won’t be another chance.”</p>
<p>	Akechi smiles, as bright and cheerful as a black hole. “There was never a chance. Soon, all of this will just be a memory, and everything will be back to normal.”</p>
<p>	His voice catches on the word normal. Akira thinks of all the things normal could encompass, but he keeps getting stuck on the idea of Akechi dead, of Akechi missing forever, of all the things Akira was able to save and how none of them were the most important thing.</p>
<p>	He leans forward and presses his lips to Akechi’s. </p>
<p>	Akechi allows it.</p>
<p>	“Then let me have one more good memory,” Akira says, softly, when he pulls back just enough to speak, to look Akechi in the eyes. There’s something in Akechi’s face that Akira can’t quite make out, some hesitation that holds him back. Akechi is a mass of contradictions that Akira wants to counter, wants to unravel, wants to cut straight through into the center of it and see what Akechi’s heart is like on the inside.</p>
<p>	He imagines it’s beautiful.</p>
<p>	“I don’t see why I should,” Akechi says, but his posture shifts, and Akira takes the miniscule invitation he’s presented with. This time, Akechi opens his mouth to the kiss, allows Akira’s hand to go to his shoulder and their knees to bump against each other. </p>
<p>	It takes awhile. Akira doesn’t mind, because even just kissing Akechi is something he wants to write so deeply on his memory that he’ll be able to bring Akechi back from the dead through sheer force of will. Akechi relaxes, just enough, letting himself lean into the kiss. He brings his own hand up and presses it to the side of Akira’s neck; his thumb glances over the hollow of Akira’s throat, and Akira allows the implicit threat with the knowledge that Akechi wouldn’t kill him now. </p>
<p>	Hopefully, he’d gotten that all out of his system the last time he killed Akira. </p>
<p>	“Did you regret not doing this?” Akechi asks, when they finally part. His lips are red, and there’s a faint rose tinge to his cheeks that makes him look younger than he is. </p>
<p>	“I wanted to do it sooner,” Akira says, because he’s thought about it for months now. He would have liked to have waited, to have done this right, but they’re pressed for time. He won’t let the opportunity pass by.</p>
<p>	Akechi hums, accepting the answer, and then reaches down to start unbuttoning his shirt.</p>
<p>	Akira watches him, surprised, and when Akechi notices the expression he smiles. “I don’t trust you not to rip a button off in your haste,” Akechi says, even though Akira has never harmed innocent clothing in his <i>life</i>, and certainly knows better than to do anything untoward to Akechi’s clothing. </p>
<p>	He doesn’t say it, though; his attention is riveted to Akechi, and Akechi’s soft laugh hits his ears as he removes his shirt entirely.</p>
<p>	“You can’t be that fascinated,” Akechi says, but his smile drops when Akira reaches out to press a hand across Akechi’s chest, to drag his fingers down with careful, casual reverence.</p>
<p>	“It isn’t fascinating,” Akira says, an almost offhanded reassurance. He lets his hand drift down to Akechi’s waist, and then holds on, fingertips pressing into the fabric of his waistband. </p>
<p>	“Then what is it?” There’s a hint of anger in Akechi’s tone, carefully controlled; Akira wonders if it’s at the situation, or at the fact that Akechi still can’t understand what goes through Akira’s head. Akira wonders if he should tell him that he doesn’t know what goes through his head, either, and then declines the thought immediately, because if there’s any surefire way to get shot again it’s <i>definitely</i> admitting that Akira works half on instinct when Akechi works so hard at everything.</p>
<p>	“It’s,” Akira says, instead, tightening his grip on Akechi’s hip just enough to make it harder for him to leave, “affection.”</p>
<p>	“Affection,” Akechi repeats, flatly.</p>
<p>	“Yeah,” Akira says. Now that he’s said it, it sounds right. “Affection.”</p>
<p>	“You don’t make any sense,” Akechi says, but his eyes glance to the side again and he leans in, so Akira takes the offering and kisses away the conversation. It’s easier, now, and Akechi leans into his touches when Akira can’t keep his hands to himself. </p>
<p>	Akira has imagined this a hundred different times, but it’s still different, to have Akechi’s skin under his fingertips for real. It’s Akechi that tugs Akira’s shirt off, but it’s Akira that keeps moving them closer, keeps trying to get any extra contact he can manage. There’s still an ocean between them that he can’t cross, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.</p>
<p>	Akechi leans forward, and then leans farther until Akira has to move back, off balance; Akechi takes the opportunity to press him down into the bed, hands braced on Akira’s shoulder and a knee braced in between Akira’s thighs. In the low light, he looks beautiful, and Akira knows better than to say that outloud.</p>
<p>	“You have every reason in the world to hate me,” Akechi says, his voice calm. There’s a note to it -- Akira thinks it might be wonder, or confusion -- that makes his tone tick upward, and it only gets worse as he continues. “You should be glad that I might be gone. I won’t be your problem anymore.”</p>
<p>	“I don’t want you to be gone,” Akira says.</p>
<p>	“I could kill you again,” Akechi says.</p>
<p>	“You won’t,” Akira replies, easily, reaching his hand up. Akechi leans away from it before Akira can reach his face, and Akira lets it fall. “It wouldn’t get you anywhere.”</p>
<p>	“You don’t know what I want,” Akechi says, a sharp whisper that’s only quiet so it isn’t a roar.</p>
<p>	“Tell me,” Akira says.</p>
<p>	Akechi doesn’t. He leans down, instead, and the instant their lips connect again, Akira takes the opportunity to thread one hand through Akechi’s hair, to splay the other hand across Akechi’s back so they can press together in a haze of heat. Akira groans into Akechi’s mouth when Akechi angles so that their bodies come into the perfect range of contact, and Akechi pulls back, studying Akira with his lips still parted and Akira’s hand still in his hair.</p>
<p>	Akechi reaches down and palms Akira’s cock through his pants, and Akira groans again, because he’ll happily give Akechi proof that he wants him a thousand times over if it means that Akechi might believe it. </p>
<p>	“You’re insane,” Akechi says.</p>
<p>	“Probably,” Akira says, and Akechi laughs, high and strained and shattered in all the wrong places, and then buries his teeth hard enough in Akira’s neck that the bruise will last longer than the world might. Akira hisses, and his fingertips bite into Akechi’s scalp, but neither of them are willing to surrender in the slightest. </p>
<p>	Akira reaches down to unbutton his pants, and Akechi pulls back enough to watch, forehead braced on Akira’s shoulder and his hair obscuring his face from view.</p>
<p>	“Hmm,” Akechi says, and then lifts himself back up to take off his own pants, like it’s a competition and he won’t be outdone. Which is <i>fine</i>, really, because Akira still gets to see Akechi in front of him, naked and glowing in the lamplight, and he doesn’t know whether to hope that this is real and Akechi is alive, or to hope that everything has been a terrible nightmare and that Akechi never died in the first place.</p>
<p>	“There’s lube in the desk,” Akira offers, mildly.</p>
<p>	“How arrogant,” Akechi huffs, but he’s still moving just enough to grab it. He casts a look over Akira’s belongings, but he doesn’t invade any of them; none of them are important, this late in the game, Akira thinks. </p>
<p>	Akechi settles back down, straddling Akira’s thighs, and Akira pushes himself up on his elbows. There’s a flicker of consideration on Akechi’s face, as he takes in the sight of Akira below him, and then he sighs.</p>
<p>	“I imagine you’ve already thought about the precise mechanics of the situation,” Akechi says, and it takes Akira’s lust-addled brain a moment to catch up before he responds with a grin and nothing else. Akechi doesn’t quite roll his eyes, but it’s a close thing, but Akira can’t focus on it in the slightest when Akechi is spreading lube onto Akira’s cock.</p>
<p>	“You should,” Akira starts, automatically, because who knows the last time Akechi had sex, but the smile Akechi flashes is brittle enough to cut to the bone, and so Akira doesn’t say a word when Akechi sinks down too fast. </p>
<p>	Akira groans again, hands finding Akechi’s hips and holding him in place before he can do anything more stupid. Akechi’s hands are shaking, and Akira ignores it for Akechi’s sake, focusing on the way Akechi trembles around the intrusion, forcing himself to adjust. It isn’t how Akira wanted things to go, exactly -- most of his fantasies revolve around Akechi laid bare and open, more honest than he ever would be in the real world -- but Akechi has always had something to prove, and this situation isn’t any different. Akira is willing to let him prove it, and Akechi does so: it takes the smallest increments of time before he’s starting to move, tight around Akira as he pushes back against Akira’s hands.</p>
<p>	“Stop that,” Akechi says, but his voice is high and breathless, and Akira wants to hear more of it. He sits up like a tidal wave, slides his hands up Akechi’s body and across the skin exposed to him, drinks it in like an offering and presses kisses to the hollow of Akechi’s throat when a moan gets stuck there, strangled and cut off at the abrupt change in permission.</p>
<p>	“I can do it--” Akechi starts, but Akira doesn’t let him continue. He presses Akechi down against the bed, watches the way his hair fans out on the sheets like a classical painting.</p>
<p>	“Let me,” Akira says, and Akechi looks at him for a long moment, the struggle clear on his face, but then Akira moves his hips and Akechi hisses out an acquiescence and wraps one leg around Akira to egg him on.</p>
<p>	Akira’s focus splits into too many directions, splintering hopelessly against the situation. Akechi’s breath is catching on every exhale, stuttering in his lungs, and when Akira leans down to brand a mark into Akechi’s neck with his mouth, Akechi groans into it, bares his throat and tangles his hands into Akira’s hair to keep him there.</p>
<p>	It doesn’t last at long as Akira might have liked. Akechi refuses to let Akira’s head back up, holds onto his hair hard enough that his scalp is going to be sore, but Akira can hear the sounds he’s making and he can imagine what he looks like with pleasure written across his face in a helpless, overwhelming rush. Akira barely manages to grab Akechi’s cock before Akira is coming, pressing deep into Akechi and letting his teeth graze the skin of Akira’s collarbone. Akechi comes almost instantly, jerking up to meet Akira’s hand and biting down on his arm to stifle the noise he makes, and Akira wonders if he was forcing himself to hold out.</p>
<p>	It’s cute, Akira thinks, slightly dazed in the aftermath.</p>
<p>	When he pushes himself up, Akechi still has an arm flung over his eyes, mouth open as he regains his bearings.</p>
<p>	“Stop,” Akechi says, without removing the arm, “looking so smug.”</p>
<p>	Akira makes absolutely no effort to change his facial expression despite Akechi guessing it accurately. </p>
<p>	“You’re beautiful,” Akira says, softly, against Akechi’s skin.</p>
<p>	Akechi barks out a laugh. “You’re sentimental,” he says, “and I feel disgusting.”</p>
<p>	Akira finally gets all the way up. If he feels sore, he can only imagine what Akechi feels, but there’s a series of satisfying bruises on both of them. A job well done, he supposes, as he cleans himself up. Akechi makes a vaguely annoyed noise when Akira presents him with a box of wet wipes, but he doesn’t protest beyond that, which is one of the seven wonders of Akira’s world.</p>
<p>	“Was that what you wanted me to stay for?” Akechi says, finally, when he’s sitting in Akira’s bed in one of Akira’s sleep shirts, hair tucked behind his ear and a smile on his face that would be convincing if not for the way his lips pressed together too hard.</p>
<p>	“No,” Akira says, “I wanted you to stay because I want you to stay.”</p>
<p>	“Well, I suppose I did agree to stay the entire night,” Akechi says, like it’s the most inconvenient thing in the world.</p>
<p>	Akira leans in to kiss him again, and Akechi seems almost surprised. The kiss is chaste, compared to earlier, but all Akira wants is to keep touching Akechi in any capacity, to see his face in every emotion and to hold onto him so solidly that he’ll never vanish.</p>
<p>	“I want you to stay forever,” Akira says, and Akechi turns away.</p>
<p>	“Yes,” Akechi says, his hand folded into a tight fist in Akira’s blankets, “I imagine you do.” But he doesn’t protest when Akira wraps his arms around him, and he allows it when Akira plasters their bodies together under the blankets, no matter how warm it gets. </p>
<p>	“It would have been nice,” Akechi murmurs, faintly, when Akira is on the edge of sleep. </p>
<p>	He’s gone in the morning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>as i was writing this i realized that i don't think leblanc has, like, an actually bathroom with a bath tub, and i just want to apologize to akechi for that</p>
<p>please discuss the mystery of where akira bathes with me on twitter @warsfeils because a bitch gotta be broke going to the bath house every day</p></blockquote></div></div>
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